


Reign Over Karnorin

by Cerys_Mandragoran



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Violence, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerys_Mandragoran/pseuds/Cerys_Mandragoran
Summary: Karnorin, a world of different cultures where old medieval traditions and the ways of science coexist. Two kingdoms lie at the forefront; Solanum and Virtusrion.In Solanum, a prince who frowns away his responsibilities gets slapped in the face by the harsh reality when his kingdom's own traditions bring about it's fall.Now the royal Assassin, who's faltering loyalties may have risked it all, is tasked with protecting him, as she figures out their next move.Meanwhile, a mysterious woman suddenly appears in Virtusrion. No one knows what her motives are; the only certain thing being her intimidating aura fits right inThe two kingdoms collide to introduce a new science fantasy world; a mix of medieval and modern setting. How will the faiths of the three intertwine?
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting any kind of content here, hope you guys enjoy~ 
> 
> Any kind of comments would be appreciated 
> 
> Also; this work is completely unbeta read so apologies over any issues.

She took shuddering breaths, eyes darted to the snow under her curled fingers. Silence descended around her into a thudding ring in her ears as her head compressed. She blinked, her vision doubling up. 

A hand grabbed her from behind, stifling her breaths. She grasped the dagger tightly and slashed at the arm, unhooking herself and stumbling back. She dug her soles into the snow before launching herself at the man, raising her dagger. A sharp whistle emerged as their weapons clashed. 

Her lips curled in distaste as she glared at him. An imbecile part of her brain admonished her that even in a ragged state he was attractive. Always a pretty man. 

She buried that thought with a flick of her wrist as she twisted her dagger and aimed to mutilate his features. 

He shot back, the weapon merely grazing his cheek. "Ilyse-" he uttered hoarsely. 

A growl threatened to erupt from her throat, her gaze sharpening. She ran towards him again, swiftly kicking snow before twisting around and aiming her leg into his abdomen. Her boots landed with a sickening crunch and the fall of a body under her.

She fell on top of him, panting, a satisfaction rising as she dug her thigh into his injured torso. "You don't have the right to voice my name," she gripped the hilt, waiting for his pained screams. 

None came. He merely looked at her. Tortured and troubled, like a sorrowful poet. It made her blood boil. She slapped his cheek, her hand trembling. 

The blood stained the snow as he choked it out and coughed. It twisted her heart that he was not even daring to fight back. Was he toying with her? 

She remained still, straddling him with her fingers tense, ready to attack. His long lashes fluttered as he twisted his eyes to her again, a smile playing on his stained lips. "I'm tired of fighting," he shifted his head to look at the sky. "Sunset? It has been hours." 

Ilyse's lips trembled. How can he speak so casually? She leaned forward while gripping the dagger tightly in both hands, her hair falling down in a curtain around them; the same colour of the blood all around them. 

He gave her a somber smile as he shakily reached up to cup her cheek. "Never seen you shed tears for anyone" 

She bit her lip harshly, gripping it tightly and squeezed her eyes shut. She cannot see him. She cannot look at him. "Stop speaking," she ground out, her voice weak. Pathetic. 

"Only if you open your eyes. I'd like to look at them again," she could hear the smile in his voice. She pried them open at his request. There it was. Soft. Gentle. Despicable. 

She raised the dagger, his face distorting into ripples. 

The ear whistle returned as she rammed it down. She dug the hilt further as she watched the life drain out of the icy blue eyes. 

His arm fell limply. 

She shook the dagger out, her eyes darting to the rivulets of blood trickling down his neck. 

She got up while pushing her hair back behind her ear, unable to pry her gaze away. 

The whistles twisted into buzzing, ringing through her head and spreading throughout her body until she was unable to feel anything but the hot trails down her cheeks and how terrible her heart ached. 

"Farewell-" she was unable to say his name. It shook on her breath and remained into silent pleads. 

She fell to her knees and grasped his shirt, pulling him up into her arms, her vision blurring again as she gripped his jaw and pushed his long curls back from his face.

Her head bowed down to his chest, her fingers raking up to his scalp and clutching him, leaving the snow to drop around them, hoping it would bury their sins off and conceal it.


	2. Spade

A cold gust of wind ruffled her long curls, some ambushing her vision. Her mismatched gaze lifted to the window, pursuing her lips. She placed the parchment down on the ratty, poor excuse for a desk and leaned over it to shut it close, her fingers clasping the wooden latch and obscuring her vision of the pale weather. She settled back down to read the contents, her hand reaching up to fix her hair. 

“Emirsyn,” a soft voice breathed out, as if she was her salvation. She once again lifted her eyes, looking over her shoulder as she folded the letter in half and pushed it back as she stood up. 

“What is it?” she rested her gaze on the plump breasts, barely concealed under a see-through laced dress, trailing up to her round face; wonderfully adorned with freckles. 

The freckles stretched as her lips curled gently, her finger reaching up to twist around her blonde strands as she looked away. “Just wished to see you” 

Emirsyn perked an eyebrow, a smirk falling on her red-painted lips. “Oh? Come here then" 

She rested her palms on the desk and pushed herself up, prying her legs open. The blonde crossed the distance, her hands flying to her sharp features as she leaned up and clasped their lips together. 

She entwined her long legs around the blonde's round body, dragging her closer until her crotch rubbed openly against her thigh. Her red painted lips curled as they fit in a puzzle against Lethia's, her tongue easily finding hers and intertwining. 

Lethia's grip tightened on her. Her hands gripped her waist, nails raking across her skin and making her crotch flare up and throb. She chuckled to herself, voice vibrating between mouths. The arousal made her wonder if Lethia knew just what she does to her. 

She broke the kiss and pushed her hair back, eyes tracing her features. To say she was "cute" would have barely sufficed. Large round, sapphire blue eyes surrounded by naturally long lashes, a button nose complimenting the freckles adorning her body akin to constellations and full lips to finish off the look. She was a complete doll. 

_ Quite the opposite of her features _ , she noted. 

Her fingers traced down the loose curls until they found her breasts. She squeezed it and looked at her playfully. "My, Lethia, your freckles seem to be paling. They should leave you longer in the sun"

Lethia quickly adorned a flush on her cheeks. "You speak as if I have a choice in the matter," her voice was soft, a hint of somberness laced in it. "Exotic animals don't get to see the light of day unless they're sold," she recited, as if to remind herself

Emirsyn slunk down from the desk, holding Lethia as their bodies rubbed together. She met her eyes, playful smirk still prominent. "I'll talk to Qainn. This," she slipped her finger inside her lingerie and pinched her pale nipple, earning a silent gasp. "Won't do. I prefer your caramel tone." 

Lethia nodded, her eyes shining as she looked at her. She noted the expression down in her memories. Admiration. It made her heart swell with pride. 

She kisses her fully again on the lips, letting her tongue trail slowly while her arm slowly slunk back, slipping the letter under a box. She broke the kiss, leaving Lethia dazed. "Let's go then," she pushed herself off and strode with her back straight out of her room; adorned in only her lace corset.

Lethia's eyes widened, her haste steps following after Emirsyn. "Now??"

She glanced at a barred window, streams of light slipping past bolted wood. "Cold but seems sunny. The snow seems to already be melting as well. No other time better than the present."

Lethia held her hands to her chest. "If you say so…" she fell quiet, perhaps worried and insecure. She rest her eyes on her. She did seem to have the correct symptoms. Lip gnaws, a nervous habit she really should eliminate. It wasn't attractive at all. Fingers fiddling together in their twist and shoulders hunched. Not as extreme. Trying to conceal her emotions? She was failing miserably if so.

"Remind me to give you acting classes," she uttered as she pushed the doors open, the hinges creating a shrieking creek and alerting their presence. 

Qainn rubbed her temples. She stood up from her desk and fixed her crimson suit, stepping up to them and regarding them with dark, almond shaped eyes. "Need something, girls?"

Lethia instinctively shrunk back behind her. She refrained a sigh. Lessons of courage as well then. "Yes. I noted your inventory is lacking," she remained still and calm, looking down at Qainn. "Not interfering with the kitchen staff, even if the food you provide really is disgusting…" she picked up a carved statue of Legendary Queen Alessia, looking at it disinterested. "The other girls need sanitary supplies, amongst coloured powder and lip paste, hair accessories, khol.." she trailed off, hoping she got the hint. "Was merely volunteering to take it off your back"

Qainn crossed her arms and glared. "Careful with your tone, Emirsyn. You are beneath me"

Emirsyn licked her lips. "Only suggesting, Madame" 

Qainn looked at her with a careful glare before she turned her pointy face away from them. "Very well. You can go. Don't take too long" 

She glanced at Lethia, watching her shoulders sag. "And the blonde? I do need help. It's a long list" 

Her madame hummed, glancing at Lethia dismissively. "You know exotics like her are unable to leave. You're lucky you can conceal that eye of yours," she tapped her own where Emirsyn's icy blue resided. 

Emirsyn's lips twisted in distaste. She's unable to even fathom the thought. "It might do well for the brothel. An investment to show off her beauty. Would you rather visit a place of entertainment full of Virtusians or head to the superior brothel with both them and Solani?" She pointed at Lethia behind her, stepping away to show her off. 

Lethia stopped gnawing at her lip and looked up at Qainn, giving her a timid smile. 

Qainn pursued her lips. "Fine. Only this once," she warned. 

Emirsyn stepped in front of the shorter girl again when she saw her face twisting into pure delight. It won't do showing it off. "One last thing."

Madame's eyes flashed dangerously, stepping over to Emirsyn and meeting her gaze. It brought her immense satisfaction to know she was still a head taller. She willed away the smirk. "We require proper clothing," she continued, unperturbed. "Flashing our nipples to the kingdom will cause too big of a chaos." 

Madame slapped her. She assumed over her attitude. She twisted her head to the side, pretending the hit wasn't a mere itch on her sharp cheek. She licked the corner of her lips, turning her mismatched eyes back to her. "Are you pleased?" 

Qainn sneered, further angered. "Don't let me take back my approval of you" 

Emirsyn hummed. Such a fragile ego. She waited for her consent, her expression stoic. It finally came with a sigh and a dismissive wave to her wrist. "Coats are in the supply closet" 

Lethia circled her hand around her arm and leaned forward. "Thank you so much madame! You have my gratitude!" 

She would have bowed as well if she didn't press a finger to her chin and kept her head up. 

\-----------------

Lethia was excited. That much was apparent. She held her coat snuggly against her body, the fur on the collar tickling her cheeks, a wide beaming smile that reached her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her pierced ears and stepped up to Emirsyn, reaching out to take her hand and intertwine them. 

Emirsyn smiled, letting her do so. She allowed her to lead the way, a bounce to her step, the shorter blonde talking animatedly to the stall owners as she asked about each item they held. 

She left her be, the conversation fading out of her senses as she looked around. In truth, the essentials only took a few minutes. She instinctively looked around for a time, perturbed when she found none. Virtusrion was still so strange to her. 

Her eyes went back to the crowds, her fingers slipping out from Lethia to subtly step away, merging with the crowd, her stride slow but sure. She picked up on conversations, dropping them when it didnt matter to her. 

"-rnament taking place way too late in the year."

Emirsyn's head darted to the voice, stepping back beside a stall. She kept her gaze on the two from behind long curls. The one that spoke was male. A gigantic height, burly figure and thick beard obscuring half his features. Nothing she deemed worthy to remember. Emirsyn moved to another stall, pretending to be interested before she turned her attention back to the two, now closer. The man had a knuckles weapon in his pants, the pocket bulging. She willed herself to look at the appalling piece of meat again, now noting he had intricate ink etched on his skin from biceps to his neck. 

"Queen Nahkti should never relinquish her reign, we're doing just fine with her. I'd rather the tournament never happens."

She turned her attention to the female. She barely reached his waist, extremely shorter than her Lethia. She couldn't help but compare, noting the blonde hair, darker and shorter than Lethia's, and the skin tone which was also merely shades darker. 

She didn't seem to have a weapon in sight, like the other's, but she did adorn the same tattoo, down to every detail. 

Emirsyn steps over to them, unbuttoning her coat to show off her cleavage. She wrapped her arms around the bulky arm, his bicep the size of her head. She smiled pleasantly up at him. "Care for an erotic experience?" she pressed her chest to him, looking right at his eyes. Which was quite difficult when she noticed how heavily he was wearing kohl around his dark green eyes. She turned her attention to the female. She had it too, her chestnut gaze glaring in disgust. "Leave. We don't want our reputation tarnished by grimy whores."

Emirsyn's smile slipped slightly, her expression turning cold. She gripped the man's arm tighter, controlling her rage. She flattered up her lashes at him, her fingers trailing to his crotch. "Well?"

He lingered on her features, lips parting before he shook his head and gently pried her away by her shoulder. 

Emirsyn stepped back, clasping her coat closed again. "Very well. What reputation is that?"

The same woman replied, crossing her arms. "We're warriors. You don't even know of us?" her brows knit together. "You're not aware of our status to protect our kingdom?"

Emirsyn hummed, giving her a dry smile. "Not a peep. Maybe you're not as important as you think," she cocked an eyebrow before turning around to leave, satisfied with the fury crossing both of their features. 

"Hey!" the voice was deep and assured. 

She looked over her shoulder, steps faltering. "Yes?"

"I believe in Edrei to take over! You shouldn't underestimate warriors!" He pointed at the adolescent height woman, looking up at him in disbelief.

Emirsyn's smile widened. "Forgive me if I find that nonsensical." She didn't linger around for any raging retorts, her steps striding surely back to Lethia.

\-------------

Emirsyn took Lethia's coat, goosebumps running as soon as the cold air hit her bare skin. She leaned over to hang them.

"Lethia, Mr.Mikoul requested for you."

Emirsyn turned around to face the redheaded girl. "Already?" She merely shrugged in reply, both of them shifting their attention to Lethia. The shine in her features dimmed, her fingers clasping together once again. "Very well," she uttered softly, meeting her eyes as she backed up. She rubbed under her eye before turning around and walking away with her head down. 

Emirsyn sighed. She dropped off the essentials to each girl, striding the long corridor of rooms; some shared and cramped; some barely even having beds. She got a monotonous repetition of gratitude, the bag soon emptying until all that remained were facial paint applicants for the two of them and sanitary supplies for Lethia. 

She knocked on the doorway, pushing back the curtain and striding inside. She sat down on the bed and crossed one leg over the other, watching Lethia paint on her features through the mirror. "You look horrid."

Lethia put the brushes down, twisting around on the stool and going over to her. She knelt down in front of her and kissed her knee, marking it with rusty gold paste formed into lips. 

Emirsyn grasped her cheek, the pink dust a horrible contrast to her skin. It tempted her to scrub it off. Lethia merely gave her a smile, the mood completely somber. "I know," she closed her eyes, leaning into her touch, revealing the worst of the paint. A faded blue prominent on her eyelids; completing the look for a whore. An entire mockery to their humanity. 

"I have to go," she whispered, looking at her through long, curled lashes. 

Emirsyn nodded, pulling her up with her as she stood. The blonde seemed unsure, flitting her gaze between the curtain and her. "What is it, Lethia?"

"May I share your bed when the night is over?" her voice was meek, her cheeks flushing. 

Emirsyn started walking way. "I'm coming for you if you aren't by the time the sun starts to peak." She heard a small exhale and a sweet thank you lost in the wind. 

She looked around carefully as she made her way back to her room. She settled down on her creaking chair once assured she was left alone and tugged back out the paper, darting through its contents until she reached the end.

_ Astrophel is dead. You shall still continue on with your assignment, the incident a minor mishap in our plans.  _

_ Heed well, Caia.  _


	3. Heart

Ransley was filled to the brim with warmth as he slept through dusk, his hair splayed around him like an elegant curtain. 

He turned his head at the sound of footsteps approaching, squinting to watch his personal servant pry open all the lavish purple curtains in the room. The sun shone brightly behind him, making his platinum head glow akin to a halo. But none of that mattered, as one single misstep from Caisen and the rays darted directly into his eyes. He moaned in protest, burying his head under the silky pillow. 

"It's time to wake up, your highness," the wonderful voice filtered through in a clear tone. 

He tugged the pillow off and peered an eye open at him. "How about you join me?" He hummed lazily as he stretched his arm on the mattress, glancing at Caisen again for his reply. 

"I'd rather not"

He rested his chin on his palm as he propped himself up, pushing his long hair to one side and exposing his beautifully painted back. "Are you sure? I won't tell"

Caisen shook his head, worry crossing his features. Nevertheless, Ransley was aware of the subtle rosy red eyed glances the servant cast at his body often times than not. 

Ransley sighed. He pulled off his silky sheets and strode over to Caisen stark naked, circling him before curling his arms around him from the back. He maintained eye contact through the long mirror's reflection. "You're extremely attractive for a servant"

He was quite thankful for the bright light cast in his room now, noting Caisen's cheeks turning into a subtle rose. "I'm glad you think so, your majesty," he uttered in a composed manner, one he wished to unravel. 

He pushed his hair back, leaning over to press his lips to his neck. He smiled to himself at the wonderful scent wafting his senses, leaning back before he can grow addicted to it, turning around and stretching his arms as he strode to the bath. 

Ransley stepped inside the warm bath; courtesy of Caisen, without a sliver of a doubt. His body sagged against the ceramic, letting out a sigh as he rested his head back. "Perfect temperature as always," his slipped his eyes shut, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. "What do I have in store for me today?" 

A monotone take on the soft voice listed off his duties, the list a long one. It made him grimace, each task settling a heavy weight in his chest. 

He belatedly noticed his servant had fallen silent, too busy willing away the unpleasant feeling. He opened his eyes, raking the silver gaze to his beautiful porcelain appearance. But it was amiss. Shoulders sagged, sighs leaving his lips. "Are you well? You seem worn." 

Caisen's body went erect the instant his concern was voiced. "I am well. Thank you." 

What a blatant lie. 

He glanced at the imposing wooden doors to his room. "Lock it and come at my side Caisen." 

Ransley took his time to regard his rear-back as he listened to the heavy clang of the metal locks. Certainly not subtle at all. A smile grew on his face when the fair-haired turned, returning to his side with a raised eyebrow. 

He didn't waste any time. He leaned forward in his bath and tugged at his clothes, starting to unfasten his garments. He paid no heed at the tense body underneath, figuring Caisen always stressed. It was merely his default. What would his parents say if they found him kneeling in front of a peasant? Undressing him! 

"Y-your highness," he glanced up at the trembling whisper. "This is improper" 

Ransley's heart ignited at the implication, the feeling rocketing straight to his groin. "If you said that to instill excitement in me, then you have succeeded," he marvelled at the naked body before him before he grasped his wrist and tugged gently. "You require rest, Caisen. You'll be safe behind locked doors."

He attempted to sinfully cover himself, eyeing the water longingly. 

Ransley trailed his fingers down to Caisen's, intertwining them. "Come in," he pressed himself back, granting him more than enough space. 

Caisen stepped inside the bath, shivers raking his linked hand as soon as he felt the warmth of the water. 

He pulled him flush to his chest, wrapping his arms around him and pecking his neck. "How scandalous would it be if I gave you a proper bath?" He chuckled, his breath ghosting against his ear. He watched it instantly redden , the blood heading down to his cheeks. He was pleased to feel him sag against his chest, followed by a soft reply. "V-very scandalous, your majesty." 

"Ransley," he quipped as he grabbed the sponge provided and pressed it to Caisen's back. "Say it"

"I-I'm not allowed to use your first name." 

"Even if I plead for it?" He whispered in his ear, hand raking his body while the other cleaned him. He smirked at the shivers rippling through him. 

"That's unbecoming of a Royal" 

Ransley rest his lips to his earlobe, nipping at it. "Please," he breathed out, dragging the sponge to his chest. "Please, Caisen." 

A silent pause fell in between before he spoke again, hesitant. "This isn't how a prince should behave…" he gulped. "Ransley…"

He smiled pleasantly, his groin pulsing heavily as the tilt of his name rang in his head. "It sounds beautiful coming from your tongue," he rested his chin on his shoulder. "How should I act then?" He purred 

Ransley could see the flicker of conflicting emotions on his face, his body saying otherwise at the apparent arousal. He could see the quick descent to defeat. "Princely.." was all he managed to say.

Ransley let the sponge drop, his hands slithering on his chest "Would it be so bad.." he pressed his lips into a repeated trial on his neck as they drifted to his ear. "If we were treated as equals?" 

"I suppose not," he mumbled after his adam's apple bobbed. "But that's not the reality we live in." 

"It isn't," his fingers slunk down to his waist. "This reality banishes innocence over pure brilliancy," he grimaced. ".. I would rather not linger on the subject," they curled around his pulsing cock. "Nevertheless, you wouldn't even dare to mention this conversation"

Caisen startled before he sagged into his touch. "I-I wouldn't dream of it." 

Ransley slowly stroked, his free arm wrapping around him. "What do you dream of?"

His servant bit at his lip, pleasure coursing through him watching him unwind in his hold. "I-I've always wanted a garden. T-to plant gorgeous flowers in"

His manoeuvres faltered in surprise. "Is that all?"

Caisen let out a chuckle -and goddess that sounded heavenly- then nodded. "I just want my own private garden. A s-small peaceful one."

"Well then...your dreams can easily be fixed. My mother enjoys gardening but she never seems to have the time. I'm sure she would not mind you planting your own in the vast yard," he started stroking him again. "But I shall talk to her to reassure your gorgeous head"

Caisen glanced at him with parted lips, uncertainty crossing his features. 

Ransley granted him a soft smile, a contradiction to his hand leisurely stroking his cock, the other one shifting to pinch his nipple. "My dreams consist of you," he uttered lightly, smile growing into a playful grin.

He flushed in response, back slowly arching and breaths growing heavier. 

The prince shifted closer to him, his long hair falling around them both; acting like a comforting blanket. He ran his roaming hand through Caisen's hair, tilting his head and kissing his lips. His chest fluttered in satisfaction when he felt the reciprocating press. He gently pried them open, his own fitting like a glove around Caisen's. 

He caressed his back when he felt the constant shivers as they kissed, boldly leaning forward to press his on cock to his body, his own flaring with warmth. The feeling further rejuvenated at the move of the blond's hips. 

He parted their lips to chuckle and look at him with a burning, intense gaze. "You're tempting me for penetration"

Caisen pursued a smile "Wouldn't that be too scandalous?" He muttered breathlessly.

"Precisely," a grin grew on his face as he pressed his erect appendage to the entrance. The response was instant. The fair haired started panting erratically, gently moving his hips, as if to urge him, as he rested his head back to watch him with warm cheeks and half-lidded eyes. 

Ransley's fingers slung to his neck as he tilted his head up and lightly gripped, his lips grazing the delicate skin as he slowly penetrated Caisen, the tip eagerly nuzzling between cheeks.

He leaned over, ready to cup his cheek and kiss his lips again when he spotted the shadows moving from the side of his vision. He darted his gaze to it, alert. 

"You're late," a cold voice spoke out of the darkness, owned by a redhead adorning a frown, the shadows forming a figure. 

He focused back on his lover, his shoulders easing. Caisen seemed to think otherwise, his complexion shades lighter than the aroused flush. Disappointment was prominent on their faces as they linked gazes, both aware their escapade was over.


	4. Heart II

A frown marred Ransley's dark features as Ilyse emerged from the shadows. "Came to watch?"

Ilyse scoffed, crossing her arms. "Hardly," her sharp, green gaze rested on Caisen, her whole body tense. Not quite an unfamiliar feat; the redhead was always alert. 

The blond darted his head away from her gaze, freezing at it’s seems as his complexion reddened once again. He pecked his neck, tucking wispy strands behind his ear as he whispered an apology. He slipped out of the bath to greet the humid air and Ilyse’s cold glare.

Ilyse tossed a towel while she darted her attention elsewhere. “Get dressed,” her voice softened when she returned her frown to Caisen. “You too”

Caisen rest his head down as he nodded, shifting out of the bath and covering himself with his arms; shoulders hunched up to his ears.

Ransley wasted no time drying himself off before he strode over to Caisen and wrapped the towel around him instead, tugging him closer. He cupped his cheek, lifting his head to look at the strawberry coloured eyes. “Shall you aid me dress?” he smiled at him, hoping it would reassure him. 

Caisen nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. He slipped out of the towel, glancing at his clothes on the floor. It caused Ransley a hitch of concern noticing the trembling grip on the fabric.

“Calm yourself, you appear extremely suspicious,” Ilye uttered.

Ransley turned around, expecting her to be behind him where he had left her. He swiveled around in a full circle until he found her leaning on the barred doors, frown ebbed on her face and marring it further; aiding the scar adjourning half of it. “It’s as if looking through a mirror,” he uttered cockily until he heard Caisen’s soft tone apologize behind him.

He sighed at the blond, passing by him to settle himself on the bed. He crossed a leg over the other, his fingers running through the long dark strands, easily reaching his rear-back. 

Caisen stood stiff, taking calculated steps towards his wardrobe to pick out attire for him. His chest stung again listening in to the uneven breaths in the silence around them. 

Ilyse sighed. “Why do you seek out trouble, Ran?”

Ransley pushed his hair over his shoulder, leaving it to drape down his back as he rested his cool gaze on her. “Trouble is the stunts you had pulled as a child. My actions are entirely human and justified if not for the inequitable laws they established on us.”

Ilyse crossed her arms, grip tightening on her bicep. "Then act like a proper prince so you can become king and change them."

Ransley stiffened, heart lodged in his throat. He was grateful for the distraction when he felt the bed dip. He looked over his shoulder at Caisen, a neat folded pile of clothing nestled on his sheets. “Do you require my aid?” he asked him, his voice meek. 

He swallowed, looking at the pile of clothing as he nodded and stood. He felt gentle hands on him; shivers coursing on his freckled skin until it was concealed by fabric; layers accumulating round his body. His fingers instinctively reached up to aid Caisen, interlacing them when the two hands met. He glanced up at him with furrowed brows, getting a sweet smile in reply. He untangled their fingers to cup his cheeks, stroking under his eyes. It saddened him to feel him tense under his touch, their gazes intertwined. He grasped his lips with his own, interlocking them and tasting him vigorously. His lips stretched between tongues embracing when he felt Caisen reciprocate; though not as ravenous. He sunk his fingers in his hair, fisting it and tugging. He was more than ecstatic to defile Caisen standing.

"Ransley," Ilyse clipped out. "The longer you take, the higher the chances they come looking for you. Must I remind you that you're the only one they'll spare?!"

Caisen wrenched away from the kiss, breaths shuddering. Ransley left his palms warm on the soft cheeks. “I would not let that happen to you,” he assured as he rested their foreheads together. The blond’s erratic fear did not ease. He reluctantly let him go, chest aching at the guilt of his selfish actions. Quite wrapped up in his thoughts, he nearly missed Caisen nodding slowly before looking at Ilyse like he had wronged her. 

The redhead on the other hand, had her eyes firmly on him, brows creased further. She straightened herself and strode right towards him.

He refrained from flinching when she got at arm’s length. Which was absolutely ridiculous. Ilyse served him, she would never dare harm her prince. This was proven correctly when she merely fixed his attire, buckling up and then straightening out his dark violet cape across his shoulders. 

He caught Caisen retreating to a corner as she forced his chin up to clasp the leather ties around his neck. “My hair...please?” he asked with a smile, pretending he did not notice Ilyse’s head shake. 

His wonderful angel instantly nodded, hastily approaching his behind. He hummed, closing his eyes, when he felt his fingers in his lost tresses; gathering up intricately. The peace was abruptly broken when he felt a strong flick amidst his facial hair on his chin. He flinched, snapping a glare at Ilyse, whom carried a small smile.

The fingers in his hair retreated, leaving the long strands pinned up save for some that framed his face and trickled down to his collarbone, if it was exposed. “I have finished your highness.”

“Thank you Caisen,’’ he uttered as he stuck his head up, his glare on Ilyse turning defiant. 

Ilyse tapped his cheek. “Imbecile,” she murmured, which brought on a pleased grin to his face. 

He turned from her to regard himself in the mirror, watching her lean forward to perch the moonstone circlet on his head, his eyes lingering on it until it rake down to the silken and leather fabric woven around on his body. He resisted the urge to curl his lips in distaste, casting his gaze towards Caisen and then Ilyse instead. “Well then. Off to the mundane meetings we shall go.”

Ilyse swiftly unlocked the heavy latches and pushed them open for Ransley to pass through. He led the two, sauntering away from his chambers with his back erect and cape slithering behind him. 

His heels were sharp against the marble flooring, the sounds echoing through the empty halls. He averted his attention towards the arched windows, pupils dilating at the stark sun heaving heat down Solanum. Never has he been as grateful for the castle’s architecture choices; the stone leaving the castle cool. 

He observed Ilyse when she quickened her pace to even their steps. Her lithe uniform and heavy cloak was replaced by civilian clothing; a purple corset with lace nestled on her collarbone and shoulders befitting for the change in climate. “I will have you know, I’m not exceptionally keen on joining. I’ll stand watch instead,” she smirked up at him. 

Ransley scoffed. “Traitor.” Her lips curled, something akin to a grimace. He was sure she was aware he had meant it lightly but perhaps over what had happened…

She stopped in front of two knights guarding grand doors with intricate metal designs over the wood. She nodded at the older of the two, a man sporting shoulder length, side swept hair and sharp facial hair; a neatly trimmed moustache paired with a goatee. 

“Sir.Cadell,” Ransley greeted with a brief head bow. 

“My prince,” his deep voice rumbled. “It is I who should be bowing to you.”

“But Cadell, you are the one serving and protecting us, are you not?” he smiled as he met his eyes. “Surely that accounts to an honour.”

Cadell smiled freely, eyes alight. “I cannot defy my prince.”

“That, you cannot,” Ransley agreed, glancing at Caisen emitting nervous energy behind him; completing the look with his chin glued to his chest. “As such,I order that I have my attendant to join me.” 

The other knight flitted his gaze between them. “Sir, servants are not allowed inside,” he hastily rushed out. 

Cadell raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you not understand my speech when I spoke over our inability to defy royalty?”

The young knight shook his head and opened the door for them. “Apologies, your majesty.”

Ransley pursued his smile, striding inside and taking his seat beside his father and his advisor.

The King faltered in his conversation as soon as he spotted the fair-haired. He got off the table, heading towards him and peering down at the both of them. “Ransley, why is he here?” his voice was a permanent husk, tone calm but sharp. 

Caisen stood closer to his chair. He fought with himself to keep his hand in place. Now was not the time to display inappropriate actions. “You see, father. It slipped my mind this morning to eat the first meal; in my eager haste to attend this meeting.”

Aurelius looked at him in disbelief, humming. “And I suppose your arms are disabled from feeding yourself?”

Ransley raised his eyebrows. “Why, father. I would be too invested in feasting then.”

He tilted his chin, glanced coldly at Caisen before waving them off and taking his seat at the head of the table, the cape fluttering behind him; just as long and dramatic as his own; merely a deep blue instead. 

Even with no crown in sight, the man looked regal. His hair woven away from his face in braids; the rest fluttering down to his collarbone. His shoulders were far from heroically spread wide but rather narrow; a perfect pair to his sharp features. Nothing like his own. He inherited the softness from his mother. Quite frankly, he could not help but compare him to a slimy snake. And yet he looked down upon them as if he was a majestic creature. His fingers clasped surely, his eyes drawn lazily as he waited for his men to gather. The power radiated simply from a mere stare and he, had no clue how to fathom it nor replicate.

In lieu, Ransley relaxed back in his seat, nudging Caisen with his foot, waiting for the curt nod as he went to get a bowl of grapes for him. He pried open his lips expectantly as soon as he had felt Caisen's presence back in its stead, his attention on the gathering of nobles his father kept at his aid. A miniscule number of seven; excluding himself and his father. 

More than half were estimated to be round his father's age. That is, if his father didn't look quite immortal in grateful grace of their goddess' gift bestowed in their blood. 

One seemed as if he was withering at his seems, clutch on his cane even trembling if he looked closer. But the firm gaze he had felt as he regarded his father in nothing but adoration and respect assured him the man is not quite ready to croak. 

Not much else was worth to note over the men nor remember, as such is with his lack of reconciliation for their petty names. All carried Solanum's lightly coloured eyes; be it from blues to greens, some hazel and even the occasional, adventurous range of honey hues. Regardless, none were a glowing silver; that trait only reserved for the Lunaris family. 

However, one noble caught his interest once again. Right across from him was Lord Dawn, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the others. The youngest in the royal court but the sharpest. According to his father, that is. He appeared to be around his age, at peak of twenty-three years old. He shared features with his dear Caisen; the strange non-pigmented blond hair and red eyes. It caused him to wonder if his attendant was a distant relative. His final conclusion as he watched the fingers fiddling with his clothing; quite attractive. Refreshing compared to the other men. And still, not in the ranks of his Caisen. 

Fingers perching a grape in between them, settled in his line of vision as they hovered over his lips. He leaned forward and slipped it in with his tongue, the appendage grazing his fingers. He did not need to feel Caisen to imagine him tense. 

He turned his head to the king as he chewed, trying not to tense himself when he met matching eyes, a chill piercing through his body. 

King Aurelius has his angular, stubbled chin rested on his palm; his scrutinizing gaze flitting between them. He leaned back, lifting his head and letting his hand casually drop on the table. "Shall we begin?" 

Lord Dawn let out an audible sigh. "Please! It's too early for me to be so awake and attentive, your highness." 

"Do you require your morn meal to rouse, Dawn?" His father's voice held amusement.

"Maybe. Those grapes are making me rather peckish," he glanced at his bowl, nestled in Caisen's soft grip and ready for his intake. His own, not the noble's. 

Aurelius flicked his hand. "Servant, attend him" 

Ransley stiffened, biting down on the flesh inside his mouth. He looked up at his attendant; gripping his chair under the wooden table. His dear respectfully bowed his head and headed to Dawn, offering the fruit. To his relief, the man merely grabbed a handful of the fruit. That quickly vanished when, in all his gall, was ogling Caisen as if he himself was on the menu. 

"Are you satisfied now?" The king hummed. 

Dawn bowed his head. "Thank you, your highness. You can proceed with the meeting." 

Ransley released his breath through his nose. "May I have my attendant back father?" He spoke up, retaining his calm. "And perhaps get on with the meeting." Grunts of agreement joined his statement. They were growing restless. 

"We shall," Aurelius nudged his head at Caisen to settle back to him. He hastily returned, Dawn's eyes trailing after him. 

He licked his lips, the icy grip clawed around his chest increasing. His father's voice distantly registered droning reports. He decided to play a game instead of a thousand ways he can condemn the young noble to execution. 

He took another grape once at his disposal, crushing it between his teeth. It barely registered when his dear pressed his leg closer to his arm; warmth spreading through like a blanket. 

Ransley drew out a quiet exhale, leaning towards the leg. He directed his attention elsewhere, soothing his chest. It roamed around the room; vastly empty save for the large table nestled in the middle and another narrow one full of an assortment of foods. He stifled a yawn, sinking into his chair and crossing his arms. His attention held on the stained glass windows spanning the length of the room; three on each side; his eyes going further up until they landed on the arched roof. A shadow shot from one beam to another. He blinked, reaching up to rub at his eyes and let them focus. 

The shadow was slowly forming shape, perching on top of the closest beam into a crouch, hood lifted up to conceal red hair. He tilted his head, smile growing. He parted his lips to mouth something at her. 

"Ransley! Act like a proper prince and divert your attention to important matters!" 

Ransley noted Caisen's flinch as he looked away from Ilyse, casually lacing his fingers on his torso. "I am, father." 

His father shook his head, disappointment crossing his features. He pressed his fingertips to his temple, glancing at the design of the goddess in the windows; perhaps praying to bestow on him patience...or a better son.

Ransley caught Dawn smiling smugly before winking up at his dear. He felt his irritation rouse again in his veins. He leaned forward, relinquishing his hold on the chair to lace his fingers together and perch them in front of him on the table. “How is your wonderful family?” he snarked, a curl growing on his lips.

Dawn’s expression was glued into pure smug. He exhaled the itch curling around his chest and crawling up his throat. “Oh who knows,” the modulated voice drew out. “Probably off dead somewhere.”

Ransley leaned back, flippantly waving his hand away. “Pure tragedy you are unable to join them,” he glanced at the oldest member. “we have no place for traitors.” 

The old man nodded in cue, glaring at Dawn. Before long, some of the others started shifting, murmuring between themselves. 

“Enough with the petty speech, Ransley,” the king ground the prattling to a halt, the scolding tone stretching to his men. He only moved again when he was able to hear birds chirping out of the palace, regarding his son with a scowl before addressing the man to his right. “I believe you were about to commence with your report before you were interrupted by childish squabble.”

Ransley bit down on his tongue, granting himself a moment of weakness and bowing his head; exhaling slowly through his nose as he glared at the wooden surface. 

The noble’s gruff voice reluctantly spoke of the revolutionized faculties in their borderlands before he hit the table and let out an agitated huff. “Why must we monitor them? We should simply grab our armies and invade! Impale their heads on spikes and call it a day! They’re taking up areas of our land, your highness!”

Ransley looked up at him in disbelief, gnawing down on his full lip; refraining from remarking the pure imbecility that thought was. He glanced at Caisen, noticing his tight grip on the bowl and the frown adorning his pretty features. 

Aurelius raised an eyebrow, perching his linked hands under his chin. “And sacrifice our men? They are an anathema to our lands.”

“Which gives it all the more reason to obliterate!” another noble interjected right at his ear, jolting Ransley. “The faculties are a thorn at both of our kingdom’s sides!”

“The borderlands aren’t ours. The word is derived precisely from it. Borders," the noble beside Dawn emphasized. 

“They were lands gifted to us by the goddess!” the bear-esque noble interjected, the very man that had started it. “They belong to us!These heathens are hexing fertile land we could use to harbour food and residency.”

The one beside Ransley nodded curtly. “Your majesty, Solanum can grow larger. Superior.”

The prince rolled his eyes, sagging back, He buried half his face in his palm.  _ The goddess fought for the land and nourished it; a stubborn feat. It was not simply a gifted feat. It was inherited through generations; expected to cultivate to its full extent. Ungrateful imbeciles.  _

He blinked out of his inner ramblings when he heard mutterings at his side. He glanced up at his dear, pursuing a smile. He watched him shake his head and sigh, his expression fully focused. He glanced down at him, stiffening when their gazes met. Ransley’s lips stretched fully, his chest squeezing.

“And I suppose we might as well wage war with Virtusrion? Shatter a century old treaty?” his father had his head tilted, as if considering it.

“It would be ideal! The larger the kingdom, the better!” 

“Oh yes. Brilliant. Will you nourish twice the population, Poliadas? Will you carry the burden of millions of knight’s deaths? The civilians that will starve and the wreck of another culture; disrespecting the goddess’ aide? Or do you merely wish we had their grimy brothels?” The king’s tone was sultry, his hands remaining linked under his chin. 

The nobleman’s blood rushed fully to his head, his rough stature sagging back into his chair and sinking low. He lowered his eyes when the silence was filled with Dawn letting out a startling laugh before it bellowed through the room; echoing. 

Aurelius’ husky chuckles soon joined. “Calm yourself,” his expression softened regarding the blond. “What is your input on this?”

Ransley’s throat clenched and enclosed. He shifted his clothing under the table and dug his fingernails into his palm; his jaw clenching as he kept his attention between the pair. 

Dawn perched a leg on the other, resting his hands on his knee casually. “I think they’re all stupid. While a bigger kingdom satiates their ambition, it simply carries too many losses. Men, even innocents. Who says they won’t attack us back? It could lead to endless years of war, to poverty and dare I say it; we might even lose. Too much is at risk just because you men think with your egos rather than your brains.   
  
Aurelius nodded, smirk growing into a proud beam that alighted his features. “Precisely,” he moved to stand, leaned over the table and re-adjusted the pawns around on the map pinned to the table. “A dominant kingdom is a relishing thought but it would bring at it’s fall rather than beneficial,” he traced his finger around the borders. “While my spite for the faculties match yours, must I remind you that the land also consists of the pale farms? Traders, mercenaries, hard-working civilians and dare I say, innocents,” he looked directly at the bullheaded man before taking in all of them. “I ought to fire you all and keep Dawn at my aid. He’s finer than all of you combined.”

Dawn’s back straightened, a proud smirk stretching on his face. “You flatter me, my King.”

Ransley buried his nails deeper, his heart hammering in his ears.  _ Finer..finer. He merely repeated his father’s assumptions into prettier wording.  _

He let slip a grimace, glancing up at Ilyse when his chest felt too heavy. 

“Anything else you would like to input over your dissatisfaction with Solanum?”

The bullhead merely cursed Dawn and his traitorous family in a retort.

A sigh from his father. “Meeting adjourned. Take a breather in my courtyard.”

He did not know if he was merely disillusioned but he thought he had caught Ilyse tilt her head and smile at him; the expression looking strange on her and mildly painful. She pushed her hood back and nudged her head towards the table before stepping away from the beams and disappearing.

He looked back down just in time to see his father pointing at Caisen. “Take that servant out of my war room and you,” he changed his direction to Dawn. “Stay.”

Ransley left his chair to screech back as he stood, clenching his trembling fists. He shouldered gently past Caisen, turning his back against his father without a bow. Each step was tense, breaths ragged to match each one he took walking towards the door. He picked up his pace, rushing past the knight. He faltered in his step, glancing at Caisen blearily. He turned back to the war room, spotting Dawn and his father conversing casually on the table. He approached, their figures blurring, grabbed the heavy knobs and pulled them with any ounce of strength he held; slamming the doors with an echoing rattle and obscured his view from his rage.


	5. Spade

Her hands moved methodically across his bulky chest, encased by inked skin and curly fur. Fur that spread from his neck down to his revolting toes. Her lips curled in disgust as she leaned down to grasp his nipple with her teeth, when she had found it that was.

A meaty hand grasped her long curls, lifting their heavy weight from her back, the other deciding to slip down to her thigh, raking across the curve of her ass and rising a wave of ill-natured shivers. She pressed herself tighter around his waist, nuzzling against his erection. 

She lifted her gaze at the roar of arousal, eyes narrowing to seek out his flushed features behind the bulky beard. “Now then,” she spoke out in a husk against the silence, lifting her face to brush against his. “Let’s play a game, shall we?” 

She ran her index finger across his jaw, resisting the itch from the straggly strands. “Would you like to be tied?” She purred, reaching for rope resting on a charred and broken chair beside her mattress. 

Emirsyn barely waited for a consenting nod as she swiftly grasped his wrists and tied them up above his head, ensuring he would not slip out of them before she twisted her body off him and straightened up fully.

She looked over her shoulder, pursuing her lips into a painted smirk as she arched her back to lean down and grasp her cloak, swiftly wrapping it around her body. Once tight around herself, she turned to him with a smile. “My, strong man like you reduced to submission with such ease,” she tilted his head as she approached, twisting remnants of rope around. “Do you wish I had gagged you?” 

His crotch throbbed harder at her mere suggestion. Her smirk grew into a grin. She lifted the rope and wrapped it around the leaking appendage, tightening it as she lifted her mismatched gaze to watch his reaction. The pants turned into a pained itch. Flushed skin lost it’s colour and hooded eyes bulged. 

She tugged the rope testily, watching it dig into the skin and cause whimpers from the bear. “Your ink,” she glanced at the intricate, dark patterns spreading like a virus faster than the hair on his body. “It is different from warriors I have had the chance to glimpse at. Why?” 

His lips parted as he tried to focus his gaze and regulate his breaths. “Do you know of the high warriors?” his voice was rough by nature but it held a sweet tone. 

She settled at the edge of the bed, lifting a leg over the other. “Information is scarce in these rotten four walls.” 

He licked his lips and nodded. “The warriors hold ranks, the most honourable you can attain is High Warrior. Why do you want to know?” he lifted his leg and nudged her breast. 

She slapped it away, brows furrowing before smoothing her features out. “It is simply much more delicious to know what a strong background you hold,” she traced a curved pattern on his torso. “Are you then?”   
  


“Afraid not,” he sighed. “The honour is only handed to a mere handful. They hold more marks than I do and while flattered,” he sent her a smile. “I do not live on palace grounds.”

“Palace grounds?” 

“Their title gains them the privilege to live close to the Queen. They are, after all, the next in line for the throne,” he paused and met her eyes. Upon seemingly sensing her confusion, he carried on. “The current Queen deems the strongest warrior worthy of the crown,” he smiled proudly. “Her majesty Nahkti was also a pupil once.”

She carefully nodded as she processed the information, the tip of her finger settling to tap methodically to her chin as she cast her gaze down to the floor, watching a roach flit past and hide in the shadows. “This does not clarify where you stand”

A chuckle interrupted her focus. “I am a mentor. I train the pupils, teach them of old traditions that reside only inside the palace grounds. Or well…” 

She reached out and tugged the rope again, producing a startled gasp. “Well?” 

“Un...derground,” he panted, his hands struggling in their restraints. “Secured in the vaults.” 

Her eyes lit up, her usual serene heartbeat rising erratically. She made a mental note of the sudden change to ponder about later. “Thank you,” she purred, releasing his dick from the rope. “You are certainly a formidable opponent,” she crawled on top of him, grasping his cheeks while meeting his eyes. Shivers ran down underneath her, his gaze changing. 

Lips pressed to his but he did not reciprocate. She let him go to reach up and untie him, her breasts swaying in front of his face. Shivers riddled her skin as his breaths collected in hot clouds, leaning away as soon as the man was free. “I would love to dominate a man like you,” she grinned gleefully, the bulky bear seeming like a mere cub under her, his gaze lost. “But it seems I am in need for my next client,” she lazily pointed a finger at her curtain. She took a soft breath, dropping her hand when she caught rustling followed by a woman informing her of another man in need for her. 

\- - - - 

Emirsyn felt doubt creep through her consciousness as she dropped from the open window inside the residence, the moon illuminating her figure. She landed in a flawless crouch, her fingertips grazing the dusty floor. 

She ascended on her feet, breaking off into a sprint through the corridors with the tips barely grazing the wood, following the sound of voices.

“-ly a matter at hand,” a deep voice rumbled, followed by the rustle of sheets.

“I do not care! Fix this!” A shrill voice joined the other’s. 

She pressed herself to the doorway, letting out a soft puff of breath. She listened intently, her heartbeat following the pattern of each step approaching her. Mismatched eyes turned their gaze towards the feminine silhouette, her heart stilling when she caught sight of the dark brown eyes meeting hers. They fell towards her opening mouth and pressing chest.

She pushed herself away from the wall and jumped on the woman, curling her legs around her and stifling her breaths with her palm while she slammed her down on the floor. The woman started trembling underneath her, only stilling when Emirsyn felt her victim dampen. 

Her lips curled in disgust. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and her jaw and twisted, listening to the sickening crunch in the deafening silence. 

She dropped her limp head down and stood up, her hands going instinctively to check if her clothing held any urination. 

“Jena, I apologi-” the words faltered into a choke. 

Emirsyn turned towards him, her lips pulled taut. “An open window? How is it possible for a man so careless to be in charge of soldiers?” 

Her client paled, backing up into the wall. “Who are you?” 

She snorted, strolling up to him and pressing her chest to his stomach. “Am I that insignificant to you? It’s barely passed a day” 

But no, he held clear recognition in his face as he stared down at her. “What have you done?” He whimpered, flitting a gaze towards...she glanced down at his hand. A golden band. Wife. 

She let out a tut, her hands going up to his thick neck, her thumbs stroking his popping jugular veins. “You had a wife and yet you landed in my bed,” she testily pressed. He looked at her in disbelief but he seemed to have forgotten he owned functional arms. “Sought for my comfort,” her lips curled. “I pity you.”

His expression crossed into rage. She took it as her cue to press him to the wall and grip his neck harder, arms trembling as she pushed all her strength into it. Her eyes settled themselves on his face, watching his complexion turn in a vast amount of different shades in such a short time until it ended on one; a horrid, bulging expression. 

She dropped him and slid inside the bedroom, looking around curiously. Her nose wrinkled, it smelled vaguely of sweat and incense. She stepped over the strewn bedsheets and opened the window, pausing at the rush of wind billowing in and greeting her. 

Doors slammed behind her. She jolted, spinning to face the noise with her arms poised in front of her. Her eyes flitted around cautiously. The room remained vacant, the culprit being a wardrobe. She let out a soft exhale, her shoulders easing as she approached it. Her fingers ran through the fabrics before she tugged out a plain billowy red shirt. She rest it over her shoulder and shifted her attention towards the smaller clothing. Ratty, peasant dark brown pants and an intricate belt later, she had her outfit. 

She discarded her thin dress, letting it pool around her feet as she slid into the new garments and tightened the belt under her chest. The shirt mostly fit her as a dress, however it did not look that much of a mess when she tucked the pants under knee high, heavy boots. She grabbed the dress and tucked it around her belt before testing the new shoes. They landed heavily with each steps, a poor attempt at being intimidating. 

A smile lit her face however when she walked over the man and his wife to search for the bathing room. Her hands searched for any source of light once she found the small room at the end of the corridor. She flinched at the sudden onslaught of light, directing her gaze elsewhere. 

Her caked reflection met her. Sharp features that formed a jagged heart. Fingers reached up to circle around her narrow, intelligent eyes, running them down to her straight nose and bow lips. All of it marred by stark and bold painting to entice men and objectify them. She shook her head, bowing down to the faucet to wash it off before grabbing one of the wife’s ties and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail, her jaw clenched. 

\- - - - 

The appearance helped significantly. None of the Virtusians cast her a secondary gaze as she strode through the bustling area. As soon as she left the residential district, the streets were illuminated. Be it candles, lanterns or torches, the night in Virtusrion was as lively as the day. 

She cast her gaze on the swaying fire, wondering if the purpose was to mimic the sun, a large part of their insignia. A glistening shield inside finishing it off.  _ ‘The kingdom that is never snuffed out, _ ’ she mused to herself. She swayed between the throngs of people as if she was dancing along to the flames, avoiding bumping into anyone. 

Her step changed once catching sight of a particular tavern.  ‘ _ Double-edged spear _ _ ’  _ was one of it’s kind. It was right at the center of the neutral ground in the peasant district and a common business for bounty hunters and warriors alike. She headed in without hesitation, observing the loud chattering and swaps of ales. She headed straight for the bar, focusing her gaze on an individual settled on a stool with long dark hair secured in half a bun, two long swords sitting at the owner’s lithe figure, and a floral long, red cloak brushing the floor. 

She sat down beside them, eyes never leaving their profile. “I see your stubble is growing in”   
  
They choked on the ale they buried their face in, turning dark grey eyes towards her. “Caia!” they burst out in a deeper voice she had remembered. 

Her face soured. She leaned over and flicked their flat nose. “Very subtle, Tsukasa,” she dragged out the name. 

“It’s Redback Spider!” They pointed at her incredulously before leaning close to her face,voice dropping in a whisper. “Don’t use my name here.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? Would that jeopardize anything?” 

“Yes, obvious-” they cut themselves off, their eyes flicking in realization. “I see, point taken.” 

Emirsyn snorted and shook her head. She reached out and tapped against the jar. “Should you be drinking?”   
  
They shrugged. “It will not affect my medicine,” they called for the innkeeper to order another ale for her. 

“I meant other matters. And I refuse your charity,” she uttered as she cast a gaze at the jar. It held no effect towards her. It was merely a bitter beverage to dull her tastes rather than senses. 

“Always straight to business,” they sighed, turning towards her as they scratched the bandages over their breasts. “Very well, what’s your report?” they held out their hand. 

She took out the letter, placing it in their hold. “What I did not mention was a plan. It was formulated after I finished the letter and I had no time to add.” 

They nodded, looking at her seriously as they tucked the letter in their silky garment. “You might not have enough time to act before the next letter anyway.”

Her lips pressed together as her brows furrowed. “Why is that?”   


“The yearly treaty. There will be a masquerade in a few weeks that joins Solanum and Virtusrion. The Queen and Princess will be travelling to Solanum. You will not have a better window. So unless your plan is fast and efficient, you are quite simply,” they paused to take a sip. “Fucked.” 

Some people cast them strange gazes at the term, mostly warriors who stuck to Virtusrion grounds. But that did not deter her. She was more concerned over the revelation, her heart picking up it’s pace once again. “Well...the plan of action was that I impersonate warriors,gain rank and slink in the Queen’s trust,” she belatedly realized she had not checked for surroundings. She tutted at her carelessness, glancing around them. However, only Tsukasa had eyes on her. 

They leaned back against the bar, their fingers circling around the rim thoughtfully before they shook their head. “You do not fit the part.”   
  
Her eyebrows rose to her curly hairline. “Excuse me? I have had enough training to match their poor excuse for a show of strength.”    
  
Tsukasa chuckled and shook their head. “That, I have no doubt of. However..” they pointed at some warriors closer to them. “You don’t look like them,” they turned towards her and gestured under their neck. “They have marks of their transition to the rank. Permanent ink etched in their skin starting from under their jaw, surrounding their chests and biceps. That is the most prominent issue,” they took another sip as they looked at her thoughtfully. “Their hair is short, out of the way to be used against them. You would not be able to be a harlot. It’s simply unacceptable.”

Her lips pursued. “I have held those factors accountable. I have also noticed the dark kohl around their eyes and the simple clothing.” 

They nodded. “War paint. It’s ridiculous….and the more layers of clothing you hold, the weaker you seem. And you might be able to do something about that but they would never accept your eye.” 

She reached up to touch her left, icy blue eye. A trait found in the Solani. “Perhaps…” she took out an eyepatch from her pockets, found in the mentor’s home. “This would do?” 

Tsukasa’s lips parted before they chuckled and shook their head. “It actually might. You would look tougher. Very well, I’ll believe you’ll pull through the plan with so few weeks to carry it out. But… How will you be able to leave the brothel? Doesn’t Madame carry a tight ship?” 

She snorted as she pocketed the eyepatch again. “You said so yourself. Believe in me. I will figure it out.” 

They nodded, grabbing the jar and drinking the last of the ale as if it was the purest of waters. “I will stick around the inns in case you may need me.”

“And the letter?” She flicked a stray curl away from her face, her gaze growing far and unfocused as she quickly ran through the plan and fought to make adjustments. Will she manage this? “I do not need your help,” she uttered eventually upon registering the earlier words. 

“It is your turn to believe in me,” they hummed calmly. She felt their gaze stuck on her. She paid it no heed, sinking into her sub-consciousness until she felt something coming her way, towards her head. 

She rapidly blinked and quickly ducked, the jar of ale shattering against the brick wall behind the bar. She snapped her gaze towards two men arguing, eyes narrowing. Her hands went to grab a bottle on the counter, standing up as she calculated the proper pinpoint where to strike them both and stop the fight. 

Tsukasa grabbed her by the arm while the other readied a bottle for himself. “Act normal,” they warned before chucking the bottle at another hunter. 

The hunter turned to look around furiously, casting her gaze on the two fighting men. She roared and dug her fist in. The kick of her stool as she flew in, caused someone else to fall and get drunkenly enraged.

Emirsyn watched incredulously as not much took for the whole bar to break out into a brawl, the off-key singer’s voice being drowned by enraged yells. She turned to Tsukasa, ready to shatter the bottle to their cheek but they smugly grinned at her before they pushed her in the midst of the fight. 

She stumbled to right herself, ready to march out of the madness only for someone to come running at her. She stepped back, watching the person ram into another. 

When she looked back to where she left Tsukasa, they were not there. She huffed and shook her head before lifting the bottle she still clutched and shattered it on a brute’s head.

His opponent rounded on her in disbelief. A fist the size of her head swung to her face. She ducked it and struck his neck with her own fist as she came up. She jumped over him as he got knocked unconscious, digging her boot on his back for footing, lifting her leg and twisting it to ram another person down. 

A victorious grin sprung on her face. Her body moved swiftly to duck and fight, her body breaking out into a sweat she eagerly welcomed. 

She ran towards a bulky back, jumping on his shoulders and squeezing his head around her thighs as she grabbed his arm and tugged to slam him down on the floor and suffocate him into unconsciousness. 

She rolled on her back and shot up on her feet, grabbing the first piece of clothing she could find and aiming her fist as she twisted them around. 

Her fist faltered upon coming face to face with Tsukasa, the manic grin ceasing into something more controlled. She punched them still, but her strength was significantly lowered. 

Tsukasa grunted, bandaged hand flying to their face as they looked at her, absolutely scandalized. “Woman!” they shrieked above the noise. 

Emirsyn snorted and dragged them out once seeing an opening, throwing them on the floor while she took the chance to breathe in the fresh air, her boiling body turning cold from the breeze hitting it. “What was that?” she asked him calmly, crouching down to their level.

They sat up on their elbows, lounging on the dirt. “Fun,” they uttered simply. “How did it feel?”

She blinked, taken aback. That was fun? She did seem to feel a new emotion. It was certainly pleasant. “It was...reckless,” she uttered out eventually, holding out her hand for them. 

They eagerly took it and dusted themselves, smiling at her warmly. “It’s getting late. Maybe you should head back”

She rolled her eyes and jabbed their shoulder. “Not my keeper.” However, it was the logical thing to do. Madame will suspect her absence soon. 

“Go,” they chuckled, nudging her. “Become a new woman once again.”

"You are an absolute pest,” she snorted, stepping back from him. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever Caia.”

She shook her head. “It’s Emirsyn."


	6. Diamond

The leg flew to slam into the wooden post, her back poised and fists clenched in determination. She let out a slow exhale, her leg resting down beside the other again before she jumped and twisted her body mid-air, her sole meeting the tip of the post and toppling it over, causing her to descend on top of it upright. 

She stared down at it as she stepped back, letting out a sigh. That barely broke a sweat. She leaned down to grasp it, ready to start over again and perhaps train with her fists for next round. 

“M’lady,” a soft-spoken voice uttered behind her. She straightened up and looked over her shoulder, wisps of haywire red strands obscuring her vision. She waited for a continuation as to why the servant was in her personal training grounds however she was only met with silence.

She let out a sigh, turning fully towards the servant. “You may proceed?” 

The girl’s lips parted once she set eyes on her firm and scarred torso, following up to her biceps. Was her toned body intimidating the girl? Or was it the infiltration of scars that ranged in any size and shape. A part of her wondered if her height and set of shoulders were also intimidating however, the chances of that were close to none. Training more days than not did not provide her with wide shoulders, keeping them as small as a commoner girl at the end of her puberty. And she could say the same for her height, which was at best, average. 

She crossed her arms, lip quirking downwards in distaste at her thoughts. “Well?” 

“Ah!” The girl blushed and hastily bowed, her fingers wringing around the basket handle she held. “My apologies,” her voice, if possible, went softer. Ilyse had to approach her to pick up any words. 

The girl tensed up, bowing her head further as her shadow rested on her tiny frame. “The queen requested your presence. She is waiting in her garden.” 

Ilyse nodded. She grabbed the girl’s arms, clasping her grip tighter when she felt her tense, and straightened her up. “It is unnecessary to bow in my presence. I serve as much as you do,” she uttered as she rested her finger under her chin and lifted it up enough to meet her eyes. 

The bright eyes widened, the blush on her cheeks brightening to a ripe fruit’s colour. “O-of course! My apologies!” 

Ilyse hummed, letting her go and grabbing the basket for her. “This is for the Queen, is it not?”    
  
The servant blinked owlishly before she frantically nodded, her face still failing to not resemble a tomato. 

“I shall deliver it to her then. Carry on with your other duties,” she rest it over her shoulder, her other carefully bandaged hand relaxing on her hip. 

“A million moons of gratitude M-” she broke herself off and moved to bow before stopping herself and just awkwardly waved at her before running inside the castle. 

And perhaps, Ilyse let her sharp green eyes focus directly on her round, rear back until she was out of sight. Her lips quirked in amusement. She shook her head and turned around to head towards the garden, her blood freezing as if the sun wasn’t beating down on her skin when she came head to head with a pair of ice blue eyes. “Ilyse,” he gurgled out. 

Her lips parted, gaze darting down towards his own plump ones. Blood fell down from them in rivulets, pooling around a growing, mutilated gap in his neck. 

She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re dead,” she hissed out to herself, bowing her head and shouldering past him. But all she had felt was a cold breeze against her skin. 

She faltered and spun around, searching for where they both once stood. She lifted her hand to rest it on her chest, pressing it tightly until she could feel her heart’s hammers. She shook her head, turning away again and trudged towards the other end of the backyard, her gaze flitting towards the flowers in the basket.

He would’ve loved to witness the beautiful paradise that was the Queen’s garden, she realized with a jolting ache. An ache that only grew once she was amidst the beds of different flowers resting in grass that is never the greener than this season. He would have been able to name each and every single one of them, alongside their history, meaning and sometimes, use. 

And right in the center of it all was an elegantly dressed woman in light blue kneeling down and murmuring a prayer under her breath as she traced the edges of petals. 

Ilyse settled down beside her, her legs folding under her while she placed the basket down. She watched the Queen turn towards the stone ebbed in the ground, lifting a wet cloth and wiping it carefully, her gaze lingering on the name. 

She didn’t want to disturb her, the Queen lost in her own world, so she focused her attention on the grave instead. It was a beautiful one compared to the scattered mess of a field she had come across on multiple occasions when she guarded the kingdom of Solanum with one of Cadell’s subordinates. 

The stone was made out of marble, sunlight glittering it’s surface. Pale pink flowers surrounded it like an embrace. However, looking closer, she could spot minimal interruptions of miniscule purple patterns. Her brows furrowed. Why were they hidden? And what did they mean? She was unable to recollect any information about the particular two. 

“My dear Ilyse,” said the warm voice. She blinked and turned her attention to her Queen, leaning away from the grave. She dipped her head in acknowledgement.

Her majesty glanced at the flowers she had been focused on, a small smile growing on her face, tilting the freckles scattered on them. “Would you like to know what they mean?” she leaned over and plucked one of the purple ones, turning it towards her and sliding it in her hair. 

Ilyse blinked, carefully touching the petals nuzzled at the side of her head. One prod and they’d sink into her strands.

Queen Irune placed one in her hair for herself before clasping her delicate fingers together as she rested them on her lap, gaze going to the name on the grave. “We are both in mourning my dear. My chest aches for his presence at my side once again, as I am sure you do so as well. And my, is that not selfish of me? To want them back from our Goddess?” Her voice never left the soothing tones, even once laced with a solemn pinch. “You hold the freesia. It holds a wonderful symbolisation of unconditional love.”

Ilyse stiffened. Her heart seemingly sprinted up and got stuck in her throat. She shot her attention towards the name encrypted over the date of his short life span, simply to avoid mulling over her words. However, it only brought up more ill emotions. Her lips twisted into a frown, the scar spanning her face contorting uncomfortably. She only felt disappointment and rage unfurling at the name resting otherwise innocently. How dare he taint th- 

“The others..they are hydrangeas. They symbolise gratitude,” she paused, clasping her hands to her chest together. “Beauty...and beautiful he was,” she uttered wistfully, oblivious to the spur of emotion that boiled in Ilyse’s gut. “The tender colours are there to represent love and the peace I wish for him,” she reached out and traced each letter slowly of his name. 

Ilyse shuddered out a hot breath, turning her gaze away. He deserved no peace. Not for what he did. And neither did Astrophel. The queen’s voice filtered in and out of her subconsciousness but she focused on none of her words. A cold hand settled on her wrist, causing her to snap out of her ruse. She focused on the contrast of their skin tones, the woman’s several shades darker than her’s. However, she noted that it was lighter than Ransley’s. 

“Ilyse, how have you been?” she let her wrist go to push the wisps behind her charred ear. “I have heard the court talking. About your dear, Astrophel and their...reluctance to trust in you again,” she carefully met her eyes, Irune’s looking through her searchingly. It brought shivers down her back. “What had happened on that day months ago?” 

Snow encased their bodies, the grass obscured underneath it. The cold sinking into their bones, the soft-looking weather tainted by blood, running from a limp arm buried in it and long red hair lying on a deceased chest. 

She took a shuddering breath and sat up straighter, her features smoothing out. “My Queen, I have already reported the event. However, if you would like, I am able to recite it to you,” she cleared her throat. “Astrophel was found to be a traitor to the kingdom after disclosing events that had occurred-” 

Irune shook her head, waving her hand to cut her off, her expression delving into sorrow. “I wished to know how you felt losing your love,” her lips pressed together and she shook her head, her loose brown waves swaying with each shift. She got up, cupping her hands to guide her up as well. Ilyse easily followed suit, her attention fully on her majesty. 

“The Goddess would have not wished for your souls to be wrenched like this,” she sighed. “I shall pray for you, my dear. May her grace be bestowed upon you for your future,” she lifted their joined hands and pressed her lips to the scarred palm. “I wish you my blessing to find love once again”

Ilyse watched her movements, stilled into silence. What else was she supposed to say when she found the Queen’s tender wishes purely...banal? 

Her Majesty smiled wistfully. “Come, my dear,” she started striding towards the wide arches spanning the whole floor, leading right towards the throne room. “I would like to proceed with decorating for the masquerade.” 

“Right,” Ilyse uttered under her breath, lifting her gaze towards a window when she caught sight of movement. It was the beloved Prince, cupping the cheeks of his servant and leaning over to press their lips together. Frustration bubbled up at his insolent carelessness. She was tempted to climb up and scold him through the glass. 

“Ilyse, is something the matter?” Irune hummed, turning to look up. 

She shook her head and pointed at the throne room. “Let’s head inside. The event will not wait for us to be done.” 

A smile sprouted from her majesty’s lips. “Naturally! Nonetheless, I did not expect you to be enthused by the event, my dear.” 

“I am not,” she crossed her arms, standing in the center of the long, hollow room, the sunlight filtering through the arches. “If the Queen wishes my help, who am I to deny such a request?”

Irune laughed softly behind her hand. She twirled around, her dress swaying along. “Then, I shall request you will have the day off duty and into suitable formal clothing,” she hummed as she turned towards her while twisting her wedding band, flitting her gaze away. “I will speak to Cadell to ensure it.” 

Ilyse barely had a moment to process that she was entirely damned to attend the forsaken masquerade before the Queen was leading her inside the ballroom, voicing out her arrangements over the ornaments, music and was that something regarding an orchestra? No matter. She merely focused on dodging her flailing arms. 

“Oh and is the banquet for the civilians simply a blessing?” she sighed, leaning back against the grand stairs’ railing with a smile plastered on her face. “No one will starve.” 

Ilyse licked her lips. “Solanum’s commoners do not struggle to fall into the claws of poverty, my Queen,” she dipped her head. “Nonetheless, the feast following the masquerade is a wonderful idea. If not for the people, then not to waste.” 

The conversation ground to a halt at the sound of enormous doors dragging against the floor, King Aurelius sauntering in, flanked by Virtusrion’s surly King and Cadell at the heel, twisting to close the doors behind them. 

Aurelius paused at the center of the ballroom. “And this,” he flaunted his arms wide open, his curls bouncing over his shoulder as he did. “Is where the masquerade will take place. A night to seal off our fates for yet another year,” he turned his smirk to the Virtusrion King, the man’s dark grey eyes boring into Aurelius while scowling. 

It seems he had rather stayed at his own residence like the previous years, the events only starting three years prior to honour the treaty rather than a diplomatic meeting. 

Queen Irune picked herself up and rushed to her husband, hands clasping his cushioned purple suit, fingers trailing to the floral embroidery. “Greetings, my kings,” a smile grew on her face. 

Aurelius turned his cold gaze down to her, shoulder recoiling. “Begone Irune, I have important matters to discuss. Focus on your tasks,” he grabbed her hand and tugged it away, her smile quickly vanishing. “And I mine.”

Irune stumbled back, an angry flash in her eyes as her features tensed. She bowed towards the men and turned away, settling her gaze towards Ilyse. “Follow me, my dear”

Ilyse stepped behind her as she quickly strode towards another end of the hall. She brushed past Cadell, looking up to meet his consistent warm gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He nodded at her and gestured a gloved hand towards the Queen. 

She hurried her steps to join the other woman, who was busying herself with already set arrangements on the tables, her shoulders tense. “The gall of that man!” She huffed under her breath, keeping her head down. “And Goddess forgive me, the poor excuse of a man the Virtusrion King is! He is barely a speck of the glory Queen Nahkti is,” she shook her head. “My deepest desires wish for her presence rather than that grouch. She is an utter pleasure to be around,” she sighed. “So assertive. Reminds me of you,” Irune turned a small smile towards her. 

Ilyse blinked, dipping her head. “Flattered, my Queen.” Her, compared to royalty? A renowned warrior with a rising popularity and love from her subordinates due to her unwavering bravery? It did not seem to match. 

The Queen carried on with her ramblings, however, Ilyse set her attention towards the men huddled closer together, tension cast around them. Her brows furrowed, straining her ears to listen to their faint voices while she focused on their lips’ movement. 

“How will that guarantee our safety from the faculties, Aurelius?” The grouch royal uttered, his raucous voice heard the most from her position. 

Aurelius had his back towards her. Whatever he had uttered was lost to her, his silvery tone a sharp contrast to the man beside him. His hand circled around fluidly before settling on his hip, Cadell following its movement. 

“They are getting stronger,” the red-clad King continued gruffly. “I have heard word of their advanced devices, creations of pure hell. Are your knights ready for the unexpected?” 

Cadell stiffened beside Aurelius, his back straightening. His jaw clenched. “I assure you, my men are at their peak. They will be ready”

Aurelius, to her relief, turned to his side, resting a hand on Cadell’s armoured bicep. “If your majesty is insecure under his pointy armour, then perhaps Virtusrion laws should change over their careless permission to grant access to bounty hunters. Outsiders with affiliations with the faculties able to freely roam in the lower district with as much of a right as their residents,” he chuckled. “Ludicrous” 

Cadell’s lips pressed tightly together, fighting to hold back a smile, judging from the way his cheeks tensed. 

The gruff King flushed and shifted as he crossed bulky arms. “It is an economical tactic for our Kingdom,” he frowned. “As you might be aware, we are not privileged with a Kingdom drowning in wealth as yours,” he added tersely. 

Aurelius smirked, chest puffing up, what he replied lost to her as she turned her attention to the grand doors opening again to reveal Ransley, by his own. Aurelius sighed, resting the back of his hand to his flowing cape and pushing it back as he swirled towards his son. “I am busy, will you speak of your matter at a later time?”

Ransley paused. He handed him a tense smile before approaching his mother. “I require your aid, mother.” 

Aurelius sat up straight, eyebrows raising. “Very well then..” he breathed out as he focused his attention back on the men. 

Ilyse suppressed the quirk of her lips, much akin to Cadell as she met his eyes again, the sunlight peeking through, making the mix of light blue and green colour appear much brighter and warmer. 

“Oh yes,” Irune grasped Ransley’s hands as soon as he was within reach. “What may I help you with?” 

The young man cleared his throat, a flush bruising his dark skin. “Well...it is about your garden. I was wondering if perhaps you are able to spare a small patch of it to hand over to another pair of hands?” he stroked her wrist. “It might benefit you to take on help” 

Ilyse was aware this was not her business. She strode away, respectfully bowing to the Kings once passed them. Cadell caught on to her arm. She paused, looking up at him. 

He turned her away, corners of his eyes crinkling again. “Will you be home for dinner?” He asked her softly, ducking his head as he reached up and ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “The baker had been kind enough to share a recipe with me. I was eager enough to try it, however I have too much for one mere man.” 

Ilyse nodded, small smile appearing across her lips. Perhaps it would not be so bad to join him once again after so long residing inside the palace. “I shall see you tonight then.” 

Cadell’s face changed as if she bestowed on him the greatest gift on the earth. “Off you go then Ilyse,” she reached up and rest his hand on her head. “Heed well.”

Ilyse ducked her head and stepped back, smile still settled on her features. “And you as well Sir.Patrilineal.” 

She twisted around and walked away to the sound of deep, gruff laughter. And a smile that grew beyond what she believed was possible on her face. With a satisfying ache settling in as if it belonged there all along.

  
  
  



End file.
